


Play You Like a Fiddle

by afterandalasia



Category: Not Another D&D Podcast (Podcast)
Genre: Dick Pics, Episode: c02e21 Plaintiffs & Paramours, Exhibitionism, Fond memories of CritiqueMyDickPic, For me this fic contains an uncharacteristic amount of penis, Horny Aster Starsage, Jens Lyndelle has a Wealth Kink (duh), Jens Lyndelle is a terrible person and that’s why we love him, M/M, Male Solo, Sub-in-Denial Jens Lyndelle, Sugar Daddy, Trinyvale Campaign (Not Another D&D Podcast), Wealth kink, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: The night before the trial in Vay'Nullar, Jens is left with some time to kill, and a prince on the far end of the speaking stone who is more than willing to help him kill it.
Relationships: Jens Lyndelle/Aster Starsage
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	Play You Like a Fiddle

**Author's Note:**

> What am I even doing now? Writing utter smut, that's what. 
> 
> I don’t know if Jens actually has the Mage Hand cantrip, but I know he _could_ , so once again I am misusing D&D spells for sex and profit.
> 
> In our writing chat we were calling this "The Fanciest Wank (TM)" and there were many photos of very fancy vanities being thrown about.

Waiting for the trial felt like one of the worst nights of Jens’s life.

Sure, that was probably hyperbole, but whatever, it would only be because he’s had a _lot_ of bad nights over his sixty-something years. Who even kept count, anyway? But anyway, waiting for the trial was definitely up there as one of the worst, even in the gorgeously expensive hotel room which they had while they waited.

Because, well, even Jens would admit the hotel suite is gorgeous. High thread count sheets, chandelier lights, vases of glittering rare flowers scenting the room like perfumes. Nyack and Onyx needed hours more sleep, so Jens was left wandering the suits in the night, not even able to take proper advantage of the televisions or the piano – _the godsdamn grand piano in beautiful tune_ – because they’d probably get offended by being awoken by it. As if it were _his_ fault that he only needed four hours to be fully rested, and they need eight.

Ridiculous.

He pulled out his speaking stone, intending to just check the time, but his eyes fell on the latest message from Aster.

_Aster: You up?_

It was only about half an hour old, which probably meant that Jens had missed it while he was checking the bathroom for any more of those good quality shampoo and conditioner miniatures that he could stuff into one of their bags. That stuff did wonders for his hair.

Jens paused, mulling the message over. Onyx and Nyack had said that he needed to be more available. Well, he had a couple more hours until he needed to sleep as well which, he supposed, made him available. He frowned as he tried to think of something appropriately nonchalant to text back, and even glanced over at Onyx as he considered waking her. No, that would just mean that he would have to wait _longer_ while she caught up on the sleep. Jens licked his lips and carefully picked out a reply.

_Jens: Killing time. You?_

 _Aster: Bored and alone. Wishing you were here_ _😉_

The reply was almost instant, and Jens raised his eyebrows. He leant against the table in the main room, lights of the city outside spilling through the windows brightly enough that even a human would have been able to read by them.

He drummed his fingers on the side of his speaking stone. Truth be told, he _would_ rather be with Aster than stuck out here waiting for a trial over some bullshit that they didn’t even do, so he supposed he had honesty on his side.

_Jens: Wish I could be. Enjoyed last night more than I’m enjoying this one._

Well, the hotel was nice.

_Jens: You have great taste in hotels, though._

That was a decent compliment, right? Aster had certainly preened whenever Jens had complimented the quality, or expense, of his belongings. This time there was a longer pause, just long enough for Jens to feel the pangs of uncertainty, before the reply came.

_Aster: How about a picture of you to keep me company?_

Jens frowned, because Aster had _posters_ of him, _that_ had been quite the discovery. Turned out that well before Aster’s forty-fifth birthday, he had been desperately _wanting_ to meet Jens but never quite being able to arrange to do so. That party had been devastating for both of them, albeit in rather different ways.

Then Aster sent through a picture, and his words made _rather_ more sense.

The angle was a little awkward, but made its point more than clearly enough. It showed Aster’s torso – or mostly his lap – as he sat in one of those wonderfully comfortable plush chairs that he had been showing Jens the day before. His pants were undone, designer logo tastefully visible on the band of his underpants, one hand cupping the visible bulge of his cock.

 _Well_ , that was certainly something. Jens’s first reaction was to look over his shoulder, because this was _exactly_ the sort of moment that one of the others would manage to appear out of nowhere, but mercifully he could still hear their distinctive soft snoring patterns from the master bedroom.

Last night _had_ been good. Swallowing, Jens walked quietly back over to the master bedroom and closed the door, cutting off the sound from beyond and buying himself just a little more privacy. All of the rooms in the suite had locks, mercifully, but having one more closed door between himself and the others – not to mention damned KT – would be appreciated.

It was second nature to him to know where the best lighting in the suite would be, and that would be the vanity extension of the bathroom with its lights and mirrors. But.

 _But_.

The dim glow of lights from the city below was dappling in faint colours across the room. It had an artistic moodiness about it that made his fingers itch and, well, if there was one thing that Jens Lyndelle knew it was taking a good photo of himself. He was the only one who could be trusted to do it properly, after all.

He arranged himself against the grand piano, untucking his shirt and undoing his pants but keeping them high enough to stay taut over his thighs. Couldn’t beat the good line of a thigh, and Jens knew that his were in perfect shape. He switched his camera to low light mode and thought of Aster, waiting in his exquisitely _expensive_ rooms and wanting, of all people, Jens Lydelle to be there with him.

It didn’t take much more than a casual palming for him to start to harden, cock warm against his thigh. Jens adjusted the angle of the camera and of his hips, tilting both until light caught just right to exaggerate his hard-on in shadow. With his other hand, he pushed down the waistband of his underpants just slightly, showing a little more of the vee of his muscles.

He snapped a handful of pictures in quick succession, then flicked through them for the best to send it back.

_Jens: How’s this for company?_

Gods, the picture looked good. Almost grayscale, with just a hint of pink to the light that picked out the shape of his cock beneath the fabric. A perfectly reasonable size; in Jens’s experience, hands and mouth were an awful lot more important than cock length, and much more possible to actually improve.

This time, the long pause felt good. A smile spread on Jens’s lips as he imagined Aster with the image in front of him, working his cock to Jens’s picture. Crown Prince of Illivas, touching himself to the sight of one Jens Lyndelle, with those wonderfully soft hands.

Jens could still remember the smell of some of those creams and unguents, from where Aster had shown them off. Aster had rubbed them excitedly into Jens’s own hands. A pity that the showers in between would have washed them off; Jens could feel himself getting harder as he remembered Aster’s silk-soft fingers rubbing away at his own sadly hardened palms.

Aster sent another picture, and Jens bit his lip not to groan. Aster had leant back in his chair, cock now fully free and one hand wrapped around it. The lighting still wasn’t the best, but Jens was pretty sure that he could see the glint of lube shining on Aster’s hand.

Even the _lube_ had been expensive, and good as hell.

_Aster: As you can see, it’s good to see you again._

 _Jens: Let me get you a clearer view_.

Dim light might do for an artsy shot or two, but Jens knew that a proper picture would deserve proper lighting. He let himself into the bathroom, flicked on the various lights, and locked the door firmly behind him. Nyack would probably find a way to accidentally take a picture and post it on Trinstagram or something.

The vanity extension had a marble counter beneath a large inset mirror. Four spotlights, each one with the colour and brightness individually controlled by magical dials beneath, sat over the counter, while the mirror itself had the engraving of the hotel’s crest in subtle but remarkable detail.

Even better, the chair in front of the vanity was unassumingly white and in the caquetoire style, allowing Jens to lounge into it rather than just sit in line. After a moment’s consideration, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the side, then set about arranging himself and the lights to get just the right flattering play of light across his skin. A little warmer; he checked the look in the camera, knowing it would alter the look slightly, and tweaked the lights appropriately.

Damn, it was a lot better doing this than trying to get the right light at no notice when it was pouring with rain outside and the bathroom light was flickering again. If taking pictures of his dick in lavish bathrooms could be a job, then Jens was up for it.

A sentiment which his cock clearly shared, and Jens barely remembered to muffle his relieved groan as he untucked his cock from his underpants and let it fall against his stomach. A tweak of the foreskin, a careful adjustment of his hand to partially conceal, to hint… there were some very useful critique sites from which, on one particularly desperate week, Jens had found himself making notes. Still, where better to put those notes to use than for the Crown Prince?

Even the light touch of his own hand made it more difficult to concentrate, but damnit, he was a _performer_. A professional, if not usually at this. Once again, Jens took a handful of pictures before sending the most flattering to Aster, wondering at what point it might be possible to critique Aster’s own pictures in return.

_Jens: Missing some of those creams from last night._

He idly fondled himself with his right hand as with his left he scrolled back up to look at Aster’s second picture. Those soft hands wrapped around his cock instead… yes, that was certainly much more inviting than having to keep quiet to avoid waking the others in the suite.

Now, being in the suite _with_ Aster, that was certainly something he could go for.

Aster’s reply was another photo, and Jens must have been wrong about the lube before because _this_ time he could see it glistening, see where the precum just beading on the tip of Aster’s cock bled into it. And see the bottle itself, discrete silver with the utterly unnecessary engraving of Aster’s initials in swirling delicate script. Gods, even his _lube_ was personalised. Jens bit his lip, and stroked more firmly at his shaft as his cock gave a definite twitch.

Another glance at the lube, though, and Jens sat up in the chair, putting aside his speaking stone to rifle through the drawers of the vanity itself. Unfortunately, it seemed the hotel had not provided its own lube – though perhaps it was in the bedrooms? Or, well, this sort of hotel would definitely provide it if asked, Jens had performed at a few places this expensive to see how they worked – but there were certainly complementary jars of hand cream to be found.

It felt like silk on his fingers, and as Jens settled back into the helpfully wide chair he felt the tip of his cock growing damp at the luxuriance of the feeling. A delicate smell wafted up from the cream, and fuck, the whole _hotel_ had smelled good from the moment they had stepped through the doors. Not cloying, not overpowering in that way that was trying to hide some other smell beneath, just clean delicate scents that had the undeniably ring of wealth about them.

This time, well, perhaps the picture was a little more compulsive, but at least he could already be sure the lighting was good. Fingers on his shaft, thumb just brushing against his slit, the angle at which he lounged perfectly flattering for his stomach. Some of his hair had dropped down over his shoulder, and Jens went to push it back again before deciding that he rather liked the look of it.

Holding the speaking stone was getting cumbersome. Jens summoned up a Mage Hand and gave it the stone, rolling the stiffness out of his shoulder as he settled back again. Oh shit, he totally should have thought of that before. Even recasting it once a minute was going to be less of a pain in the ass than manually adjusting his speaking stone and trying to keep the pose he was in looking natural. The mage hand tapped up a timer and put it into the corner of the screen, and Jens recast the spell as the timer started. Having the Mage Hand run out of time and drop the speaking stone at an inappropriate moment was the last thing he wanted.

Last night hadn’t exactly given him enough time to gauge details of what Aster was into when he was watching, and now he found himself with a free hand. Nipples? Balls? The performer in him wanted too much to gauge his audience. In an undertone – dear gods, Nyack and Onyx had better _not_ wake up, how many pictures Aster wanted was undetermined but he was too aroused to _not_ get off tonight – he dictated to the Mage Hand.

_Jens: Wish you were touching anywhere in particular?_

It absolutely was _not_ some sort of sub thing, and there would be duels called if anyone were to suggest it was. But any performer wanted to play to their audience, right? If Jens preferred it when someone told him where to place his hands, that was simply his artist training coming out. Even in the bedroom.

_Aster: Miss the feel of your balls._

Straightforward answers; that was rapidly rising up alongside wealth and power in Aster’s desirable traits. Jens pushed his pants and underpants down further, leaving them just rumpled on the edge of the picture, and toyed with his balls with one hand while the other teased delicately just at the base of the head. Another picture sent, and Jens _really_ wished that he could see Aster’s face to be receiving these. At least the response, another – slightly blurry this time – picture of Aster’s hand wrapped around his flushed cock – made it clear that the prince appreciated the view.

Definitely needed some work on his photography skills. But Jens didn’t consider that much of a downside compared to, well, everything else.

_Aster: Wish I could hear you too_

Aster didn’t know Mage Hand. Was he still trying to text with one hand, and jerk off with the other? It would explain the dropping of punctuation. Jens rolled his eyes at the unstated question, went to snap an answer, then caught himself. No, there had to be a more flattering way to say no than to point out that he didn’t want to wake his idiot brother, his idiot roommate, or his idiot roommate’s even more idiot parasite.

_Jens: Gotta keep those sounds just for you, when we’re alone_.

Maybe not the slickest response, but he still felt good about it. Wondered whether it was sparking something more possessive in Aster, something that would make the prince want to _keep_ him. Which, of course, Jens could then proceed to use to his advantage. It wasn’t grifting if the prince was enthusiastically going along with it all, right?

Not all King Consorts had to be as involved as the current one. Never mind that the current kings both still had a good couple of centuries to go. No, for now it could be swanky hotels, expensive clothes, and all the absurdly wasteful creams that he could bathe his hands in.

Or could massage into Aster’s skin, and have Aster massage them into his in return. That certainly sounded like a good way to waste of both their times. Jens licked his lips where they were growing dry, feeling his breath growing quicker as he held back from the urge to pump harder, faster, at his cock.

_Aster: You could mute a video call_.

His least subtle statement yet, Jens had to say, even as he felt himself flush hot with the idea of the prince so desperate to see him as to accept muted calls from halfway across the continent. He recast Mage Hand as the timer hit the minute, and made sure the speaking stone was securely muted before opening up the video call again.

Aster picked up _immediately_ , and for a moment Jens saw his face, bright eyes and flushed lips, silver hair just light dishevelled about his face. Aster smiled, then the angle of the camera went back to his cock again, clothes pushed aside, silk shirt rucked up. Jens wanted to take that shirt and rip it off Aster’s form, the sensation all the more tempting with the knowledge that Aster wouldn’t even have to bother with Mending if he didn’t want to. He could just get a new one made. Though for now, he’d take seeing Aster spoiling it with streaks of come before the night was through.

A flick of the mage hand’s thumb swapped the images round, though, so that Aster was a thumbnail while Jens could see his own torso, just below his shoulders down to mid-thigh, framed perfectly and lit by the delicate high-quality lighting of the hotel vanity. Aster’s speaking stone camera really wasn’t of a comparable quality, and in any case Jens needed to know just how well he was presenting himself for the prince.

If it meant he could look at his own carefully arranged image, rather than the slightly shaky and imperfectly framed shot that Aster was giving him, well, it didn’t hurt.

He could still see, though, that Aster’s breath was already fast and uneven, hips shifting up into his hand. It was always good to know one’s performance was appreciated.

Jens rolled his hips as he kept the steady pace of his right hand, eyes on the image of himself on the speaking stone. It was easy enough to account for the horizontal flip, and with control of the stone himself he could keep the angle at its best for both of them. Which was, of course, the most flattering one that he could manage, because it would be no good for either of them if the camera managed to make it look like he had a double chin or something else that would doubtless be equally offputting to Aster as it was to Jens.

He had to admit, it was a confidence boost that he needed after the last few days. Hell, after the last year. He’d not have thought, even in his wildest plans, that he would be streaming high-definition video of himself to Prince Aster; high definition of his hand stroking along the length of his shaft, a close-up and an arch of his back as he ran his fingers across his slit, his breath growing faster as he watched the small image of himself, the smaller image still of the prince.

Sliding down a finger and thumb, fingers rippling back on as he stroked up again. Warm enough to feel the faintest sheen of sweat on his stomach as his hand pumped, cool enough for his nipples to be hard in the night air. For a moment, at least, he could lose himself in the performance, recasting Mage Hand each time the hand drew close to the minute with muttered words and left hand rolling in the arcane gesture in a way that just so happened to tease pleasure around his balls.

He could see from the increased hurry in Aster’s movements that he was close, and with a tight-throated word brought that image to the front again as, frankly, he could not think of a better boost to his ego just then than the close-up sight of Aster coming with Jens’s image in his mind and on his speaking stone.

Aster came with jerks of his hips, white streaks on the dark grey silk of his shirt, and Jens suppressed a growl at the delicious sight of dark wetness dripping and seeping down the fabric. Aster collapsed back into his chair, and the camera moved jaggedly again until it showed only his face, flushed and still dark-eyed. A glance off-screen, shoulder moving as he grabbed something, then Aster was typing again and Jens felt the anticipation tingling up his spine.

_Aster: You make for good company._

_Aster: Do I still get to see you finish?_

For an answer, Jens tilted the angle of the camera to catch the bottom half of his face, and let a smile steal across it. Then he let the view drop back again as he increased the speed of his stroke, letting the other hand on his balls start tapping rhythmically against the sensitive skin. The undeniably expensive smell of the cream made it easier to imagine that he was in Aster’s quarters, that he was close enough to hear Aster’s panting breath as well as his own. He would be able to make as much noise as he wanted, able to get Aster to coax him on in that breathless voice, quarters so extensive that nobody would be close enough to hear and even the servants had to be summoned with magic.

His thoughts slipped a little further, despite himself; he could imagine Aster whispering praise for the beauty of his _performance_ , could imagine himself kneeling at Aster’s feet drinking in the hungry look that even now was in the prince’s eyes. Someone to finally _appreciate_ … in money, of course. Monetary appreciation was the highest form of compliment, after all. But he certainly wouldn’t say no to the feeling of Aster’s approval wrapping around him, either.

One more whisper to the Mage Hand. He knew he wasn’t far away now.

He grew breathless as the heat in his gut grew, hips rocking up to meet his hand in firmer, seeking movements. He tugged slightly on his balls, just gentle stretches of the skin, and concentrated on not letting out a groan as he let himself tip onwards over the edge.

Jens’s head fell back, eyes closing, for a few seconds letting the terrible weight of the world fall away. No trial for murder, no god-devouring maniac, not even a lunatic half-brother who insisted on sleeping on his roof. Just Aster’s waiting eyes, expensive cream on the hand working his cock, and the perfect crisp feeling of a five-star hotel that he did not have to pay for.

He came in jerky movements, hot splatters against his chest, and for a brief moment basked in the afterglow-warmth in the cradling comfort of the chair. He knew quite well that it could not last, though, and knew as well that he had to collect himself to end the video call in a manner that was not going to be offputtingly abrupt.

Jens peeled upright, keeping himself nicely framed, and scooped up the speaking stone himself. Blow a kiss? No, that was too much. Jens wet his lips, winked into the camera, and ended the video call. His heart was still hammering in his chest, mostly post-climax but also a little bit from the thrill of sending filthy videos to _Crown Prince Aster of Illivas_.

_Aster: See you soon_ _😘_

Well, provided they didn’t get found guilty of murder tomorrow… and the world didn’t end… sure, going back to Illivas sounded fair. Certainly better than going back to the apartment with too many people in it.

Maybe if he moved into something that Aster gave him, Onyx and Nyack would finally realise the existence of rent.

He wiped his hands clean on one of the hotel’s – many, wonderfully soft – towels and considered his reply. It wouldn’t do to be boring Aster with a little matter like the potential end of the world, and all, but Jens figured it would at least be polite to drop _some_ sort of hint that they might not survive the next few days.

Well, most likely either they would both live or both die, of course, and it didn’t mean all that much. But in the slim chance that only Jens managed to bite it – he would have to write an appropriately noble letter for Nyack and Onyx to bring back with his body, Aster should be able to afford the diamonds it took for a Cleric to cast Raise Dead – he didn’t want the last message on his speaking stone to look negative.

_Jens: Hopefully so, my prince._

That was how this shit worked, right? It was probably more romantic to say that to somebody who _wasn’t_ a prince, of course, but hopefully it would still do.

After a moment’s pause, he followed it up.

_Jens: x o x_

And, well, he supposed that would have to do. He wasn’t quite sure how he’d found himself in the position of trying to save the world, but at least it felt like he was getting the hang of this whole ‘relationship’ deal. As long as it involved jerking off in hotel rooms and not too much emotional baggage, of course.


End file.
